


Ties That Bind

by Mythril (fantacination)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Sane Lotor, fluff and action, pinch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 04:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantacination/pseuds/Mythril
Summary: Keith knows what's at stake. And sometimes that means marrying for the sake of the universe.Or: Keith is rootless; Lotor is mired. Two half-Galra boys figure out that it's not Me Against The World if they have eachother.[[A piece done for the Prince and Knight Discord Secret Santa!]]





	Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> For the Keitor discord Secret Santa!
> 
> Prompt: Arranged marriage - Lotor wants a tie with the coalition. Keith volunteers to marry Lotor. 
> 
> Hope you like it, Cererian! Sorry it's late but hope you had a happy holidays!

“I’ll do it,” Keith said, breaking the silence that fell over the room.

The paladins looked towards him as one, like startled cats, all ringed around a thin tablet and holodisk. It was an innocuous-looking thing, a formal missive recorded into a sleek, gold holographic chip. Lotor’s miniature recorded figure stood in the projection, staring out at them all neutrally at the end of his message.

The message was simple. The request was not. In the aftermath of the Empire's chaotic succession, Lotor needed proof of his commitment to the Coalition, a safety check to prove the intentions of the shambling behemoth of an Empire he’d inherited by blood and contest.

A bonding. Marriage to one of Voltron’s number. It would have the neat side effect of allowing him slightly more control over at least one lion, Keith darkly thought.

Except, that wasn’t going to happen.

He stepped forward, leaving his claimed post by the wall to pick up the tablet, first. It had a draft of the terms of the marriage on it, though there were spaces where room had been left to decide. It wasn’t terribly long. Keith skimmed it with slender fingers to see if there was anything he couldn’t stomach.  

His shoulders were tense, steeled for a battle outlined in polite courtesies.

“Keith-- what are you saying? You can’t be...” Shiro trailed off. His gray eyes wary.

Most of the paladins were all laid out on the circular sofa in various states of shock or denial. Only Shiro looked like he was making any headway into processing the information, he leaned forward from his seat, elbows on bent knees and fingers laced. He looked between the proposal and Keith, brow furrowed.

Lance shifted in his seat, then sighed reluctantly. “Yeah, man, it’s good of you to take one for the team and all, but you don’t _have_ to do it.”

“Well, Allura can’t,” Keith said baldly, knowing Lance’s stake in this.

Luckily for Lance, Allura and Lotor were currently on thin ice, with the alliance still being so new. Not for lack of Lotor’s trying.  If things were different, if they had more time, and if Lance hadn’t kept barging in on them while Allura let him, maybe she’d have been the best choice.  “And the rest of you are human.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have lives on earth to go back to. Family,” he added, glancing over at Hunk and Pidge. “I’m the logical choice.”

“I don’t like it…” Shiro said, still troubled. “We don’t have to accept an outdated tradition just for the sake of the alliance- you’d be trapped if it goes badly.”

“I can take care of myself.” Keith had been taking care of himself since he was twelve. It hadn’t been any different out here, in space.

“Nobody’s arguing that.” Shiro folded his arms.

“Yeah, dude, you’re still edgelord mcedge, no contest,”  Lance muttered.

Keith ignored Lance’s jab and folded his arms. “Then what’s the problem?”

The others shifted uneasily, but Keith could feel them all start to fold.

“More importantly, Voltron’s stable and we can’t risk losing any of the pilots. Or neutrality,” Keith continued. “I’m unattached, half-Galra, and I have ties with the Blades as much as Voltron.” He closed his eyes briefly, letting the distance of the five fully occupied seats yawn between them. “Everyone else has somewhere to be. It has to be me.”

He leveled his gaze at the room, the glint of his eyes purple. “No one’s ordering me, I’m going.”

The team fell silent, knowing exactly where they’d heard those words before.

“That’s not exactly, well, I mean, those are all great points,” Hunk said nervously. “But that’s still pretty much the rest of your life, unless they have alien divorce. Do they have alien divorce?” His head swiveled hopefully towards Allura.

Allura looked blankly back, puzzled. “What is ‘divorce’?”

“That’s promising,” Pidge muttered, tucked up against a corner of the couch and fiddling with some schematics on her tablet. “Can’t we just--” she sketched vaguely at the air. “Pick someone else from the actual Coalition? I mean there’s a lot more of them than Voltron.”

But not even two of the most brilliant minds in the universe could think of any other options. They couldn’t deny Lotor the tie when so much hinged on the stability of both the Galra Empire and the Coalition. And much as they hedged, none of them were willing to do it, either. Keith had known that, too. He had, the moment Lotor’s silky voice outlined the request, his heart quietly sinking.

Shiro might’ve volunteered, Keith thought, if he hadn’t beat him to it. But trapping Shiro in the heart of the Empire that tortured him was the height of cruelty. He wouldn’t be ‘Shiro’ there, only ‘Champion’. And the sunken look in Shiro’s eyes told him he knew it.

Eventually, everyone left, looking vaguely guilty. Hunk had hugged Keith like he’d just been sentenced to life imprisonment.

He wasn’t wrong.   

“I thought you’d hate to be tied down,” Shiro said, waiting for him by the door.

Keith paused, hood halfway up, then he tugged the dark cloth over his head.

“Never had anything to tie me,” Keith said, finally. “Not after my dad died.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “But you found your place, with the Blades?”

“Yeah, well, Kolivan isn’t too happy with me, right now,” Keith admitted, with a self-deprecating snort. It was the only reason he had been at the Castle when the proposal came. “He benched me after my stunt in Kral Zera. There was supposed to be another mission, but with Voltron kicking Sendak’s ass, he freed up someone else to do it.”

“Keith… We’d be dead if it weren't for you,” Shiro said seriously. “Me and Lotor.”

Keith glanced up at him, then let the mask materialize over his face, locking it away. “I know.”

After all, that had made it worth anything.

In the end, that was what this was all about. A path from Naxzela that ended in today, yoking himself to the Empire. There was good in this. Purpose. Keith just had to believe in that.

“Is my room open? I need to go change, if I’m doing this.” The voice changer distorted Keith’s voice enough that nobody could’ve heard it tremble.

“Yes, of course,” Shiro said, discomfited. “Listen, Keith…”

“Not now, Shiro,” Keith said, tired with what was to come. It was never a good time to question his life decisions. Especially when it was for other people’s own good. He’d thought Shiro would have understood that much.

He could feel Shiro’s confused frown follow him like the weight of Matt’s gaze after Naxzela. He didn’t want to leave this way, the guilt of snubbing Shiro eating away at him. But the contract was as good as done and he… didn’t need to be here. He’d rather be out than inside, feeling their guilt as they skirted him like a hurt wild animal.   

He turned on his heel, striding quickly like he had somewhere to be.

=

After changing, Keith borrowed a shuttle to give their response. Now was as good a time as any to introduce himself to his... new fiance.

They hadn’t really met yet, not formally. At first, Keith had been busy dismantling other Galran bases on Lotor’s information while the prince had been briefly captive, and then the Kral Zera happened. He wondered what was the protocol for when you tackled your royal fiance down fifty feet of stairs. He hoped he didn’t want an apology for that. Keith wasn’t going to give him one.

He docked the shuttle in the new Galra Central Command hangar and was passed along by harried officers until they figured out what he was there for.

Now, Keith sat in what passed for a sitting room on Lotor’s new base. It had been hastily furnished, banners covering old symbols and several dark blue cushions heaped on straight-edged chairs in an attempt to soften them.

Keith folded his arms and crossed his ankles in front of him, making sure he had line of sight to the door. It was the only entrance and exit to the chamber and he didn't want any surprises, allies or not.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. The door thrummed open scant minutes later and Lotor swept through. One of his  hands dropped back down from his head to fall against his side, as though he’d just straightened his hair.

The prince- now, Emperor, smiled charmingly at him as he settled into the chair beside Keith, forcing him to look away from the exit. At this distance, he needed to tip his head back to see Lotor’s face- and it was entirely too close.

Keith shifted back uneasily, unsure what to make of his nearness. He’d been closer, before, but not long enough too have been able to see the dark blue ring around Lotor’s irises or really understand how… large, he was. The shadow of his shoulders fell across Keith’s face.

“My apologies for the delay, there are far too many details to be sorted when one hasn’t changed government in ten thousand years.” He waved a hand at the orderlies that started to follow him inside, dismissing them. One tried to open his mouth to protest, but the woman behind him, obviously the wiser of the two, pulled him back through the door.

Lotor’s ice blue gaze lit on Keith, shrewd, and his mouth curled a touch wryly. “I take it you have come to give your response.”

“Yeah.” Keith set the holodisk on the table, the metal clacking. He took a breath to steady himself. “It’s me.” He paused, Then, when Lotor said nothing, clarified: “I’ll marry you.”

Lotor smiled easily. “Wonderful. Will you be staying the night?”

Keith frowned. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Lotor chuckled and leaned in slightly. He smelled faintly like an alien spice, an undefinable scent that was a little like poppyseed. “I’m not. Far from it, in fact.”

“Why?” Keith’s brow knit together. He disliked the idea of playing straight into Lotor’s expectations. The prospect of being caught in the web of a plan made his nerves rattle, for all that Lotor was unmistakably allied, his father’s corpse at his feet.

The corner of Lotor’s mouth lifted crookedly. “Are you not part Galra?”

Keith blinked. In the red paladin’s armor, nobody would have guessed he had a drop of Galra blood. Nobody from earth, at least. “...What makes you say that?”

“Any number of things.” Lotor leaned back. “Your eyes and the way you look at me. The way you carry yourself. Your answer, just now.”

Keith scowled. “Cute.” This was off to a great start.

“If you want the truth, I already knew,” Lotor said simply. “You were the one who saved me on Feyiv, I remember,” he murmured, peering at Keith through his pale lashes. “Gone before anyone could even muster.”

So much for keeping his involvement with the Blades secret. He honestly hadn’t thought Lotor would remember. “That was just payback,” Keith said uncomfortably. For Naxzela, and the promise he’d almost kept too soon.

“Oh? And what do you owe me, Paladin of Voltron?”

“Nothing,” Keith said sharply, sinking into uncomfortable, awkward silence. “And I’m not a paladin, anymore,” he said, haltingly. He thought about adding an explanation, but came up empty.

“Of course you’re a Paladin. Do the Lions’ voices not still reach your heart?” Lotor’s eyes flicked down to the red ‘v’ emblazoned on his chest.

“No,” Keith lied, looking away. “That’s-- they belong to the others, now.” He tried not to think about feeling them on the edges of his senses, like ghosts.

“I apologize if I offend,” Lotor said with a smile. “I find your background fascinating. Keith, the missing paladin.”

“The Red Paladin isn’t missing.” Black’s wasn’t, either. That had been the whole point.

“That wouldn’t explain why the princess acts your part.”

Keith stared at Lotor suspiciously. “You don’t seem like the type to watch shows.” 

“I’m always very interested in what my allies do, Keith,” Lotor said wryly. “Particularly one as powerful and influential as Voltron. And particularly, you.”  

Keith had never been one for words. In Lotor, it was clear he’d found a master smith. Not even Shiro or Allura had Lotor’s manner or way with words, half showmanship and half charming courtier. But underneath that perfectly modest surface, Keith couldn’t help feeling like he’d plunged into shark-infested waters.

It made him straighten his shoulders, eyes sparking. “Why are you so interested in me?”

“Why?” Lotor pondered. “I suppose I simply find you fascinating.”

“Half Galra, half earthling, heir to the Blades-- don’t give me that look, I have my own sources,” he brushed off, “--and talented paladin pilot.”

Lotor laid one hand over Keith’s, light enough that he could brush it off if he wanted, but unmistakable. “They have no idea what you’re worth, to give you so easily to me.”

“You didn’t just expect this. You planned for it,” Keith said, stunned. “You actually wanted--” _me_ , he didn’t finish.

They’d all thought he’d been after Allura. Every one of them, including Allura herself. The Galran Emperor marrying the last Altean royal would be poetic.  But this… Lotor’s mind worked in layers. Chasing him through space had convinced Keith of that. If Keith hadn’t come, what would he have done? No, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered to a prince used to sniping from the edge.

“I haven’t signed anything, yet,” Keith reminded him. “You-- whatever you’re planning--”

“Nothing, I assure you, that Voltron need worry about,” Lotor said. He sighed, meeting Keith’s gaze. “Really, Keith, is it so hard to believe I simply wanted you?”

 _Yes,_ Keith thought, because nobody ever had. Tolerated him, often, grateful to him, certainly. Even Shiro, thankful as Keith was for what warmth he could spare, had never been able to give him more than what others hadn’t already claimed. He hadn’t belonged anywhere, to anyone since his father had died. Not Voltron, full of silly life and light; not the Blades, mired in tradition and shadows.

That was just how it was; had always been.

Lotor didn’t seem to need an answer. Taking it as permission, he squeezed Keith’s hand in his own, neatened claws scraping harmlessly.

“I don’t take this engagement lightly. You will be an asset to the Empire, a sign of the future to come: the symbol of peace, tolerance proof in your veins, as talented as you are beautiful. My Empire will be one with new blood, cleansing the people of the past.”

“I could go back out right now,” Keith said, choosing to ignore the obvious hooks in that statement.  He hated being played.

“But you won’t,” Lotor said, obnoxiously confident. “Your words are your bond. You are not one to break them lightly.”

Lotor shifted and his hair brushed against Keith’s hand, still trapped in Lotor’s palm. “Have I truly said anything to warrant drastic action? All I’ve admitted is my desire to have you, Keith. This tie will still help consolidate one of the largest powers in the universe into the Coalition fold. You aren’t the only one with a… cautious view of the Empire and it’s difficult to prove a Krypax can change its stripes. What we need is blood to seal it and heart to keep it. Else, how long before the tension begets cracks in the alliance?”

Keith hated to admit when someone else was right. It just seemed like there had to be something wrong with a plan spun out of Lotor’s mind. Especially one that hinged on Keith’s continued pliant existence.  

“There are worse things than to be married to me, I assure you. I only ask that you let me prove it.”

Put that way, it almost seemed like a choice.

=

In the end, Lotor made more good points than bad ones. Either way, Keith had to see it through. Lotor took him on a tour of his new Command, introducing him to old tutors and new generals.

A Galra, conspicuous in her lack of armor, walked briskly up as they were finishing up in the hangar. “Your Excellency, they’re ready for you now.”

“Ah, that would be the fitting.”

“Fitting,” Keith echoed, blinking.

“Couples typically have some leeway- modern Galra usually get bonded with their intended in formal military attire. Given the circumstances, I thought it might be best to start moving away from the war-driven image my father left as legacy.”

“No,” Keith said firmly. “I’m not wearing anything but my paladin suit.”

“You’d look amazing in-” Lotor began, only to have Keith grip his wrist. It was a bit more difficult than he’d like, his fingers didn’t even close all the way around it. But he’d spent the last half year surrounded by people bigger than he was.

“I’m not going to parade around in a monkey suit or, or some kind of dress for this.”

For the first time, Lotor looked at a loss. “I beg your pardon?”

“No costumes. I’m here as a representative of Voltron.”

“And yet, you insist you are no longer one of their number,” Lotor pointed out mildly.

“Well I’m not ‘bonding’ you for me,” Keith reminded.

Lotor paused. “No,” he enunciated carefully, “Not as of yet.” He turned to the Galra woman and smiled winsomely. “My beloved bride has spoken. My apologies for the trouble, speak to Garuva for the details.”

“Yes, Your Excellencies,” she saluted.

Keith glanced up at Lotor suspiciously. That had been far too easy.

“I’m aware naught but sincerity will move you,” Lotor murmured after the woman left.

“That must be hard for you,” Keith said, without sympathy.

Lotor motioned them forward, stopping short of offering Keith an arm. “I am not unfamiliar with the concept. You must understand, I start nothing without seeing its end.”

Keith supposed that was the part of him that was unfailingly Galra, too.

“Are you hungry?” Lotor asked as they continued the tour towards his private wing.

Keith shrugged. “I could eat.”

“Then we’ll have dinner together,” Lotor decided. “I'll let Deeta know.”

They were passing a corridor filled with doorways into other rooms, though Lotor didn’t stop at any of them. “What’s in here?”

For a moment, Lotor looked… tired. It made him look older.

“Lodgings, for my… trusted generals,” he said, finally. “I’m a bit short on those, at the moment.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Keith said a bit awkwardly. Of course he remembered Lotor’s former generals  had been with Haggar at the Kral Zera. There had been a reason, after all, that Lotor had surrendered himself to Voltron.

“I was not… the best commander, in exile. Too much had been lost,” Lotor murmured. “But the past cannot be rewritten, only the future forged.”

After a pause, Lotor walked on, the stride of his boots nearly as soundless as Keith's. “She was quiet, when she returned.”

Keith didn’t follow. “Who?”

“Acxa. She told me she met a paladin in the Weblum. The red one.” Lotor’s eyes flicked back to Keith’s paladin suit. “I must thank you for saving her.”

“You don’t have to.” Acxa had spared him, in turn. While they might still be on opposing sides now, any debt could be considered repaid.

Still, it was yet another strange reminder at how his and Lotor’s lives seemed both separate and intertwined. He’d spent so long trying to find him in the Blades, only to have caught him to save his life.

But no, that wasn’t the real reason he’d gone to the Blades.

And maybe Lotor had understood that more than anyone on the team had.

“Here we are,” Lotor said briskly as they came to a set of double doors. It opened to a lounge-like room, done in pale grays. The only color came from sprays of blue-tinged lilac buds, interspersed with pale silver fronds and deeper blue blossoms. The light was dimmed, but more lights were suspended at intervals around the room.

At the center of the room, a glass table suspended on nothing was half-veiled in silvery cloth, bordered by a pale lilac couch.

Lotor led him to it, and pressed a button at the side as he gestured for Keith to sit first.

Keith slid into the seat, surprised when Lotor took the one beside him, instead of the one opposite, as he’d expected.

Then again, it was a small enough table. It wasn’t really that much of a difference. Keith shifted a bit, trying not to look like he was too aware of him.

Two maids wheeled out carts and placed plates of food on the table, uncovering the dishes to reveal what looked like roast or raw meats and stews or curries in strange colors. There were thick sticks of the starchy bread-like food he sometimes saw sold on the missions he’d had in Galra-occupied planets.

Keith didn’t recognize anything else on the table. When he ate with the Blades, it was usually rations, compressed meatloaf-like triangles of food. There wasn’t much taste, but he didn’t often want any, with the work they did.

Lotor waited for the maids to leave before picking up a bowl of infused water and offering it to Keith to wash his hands in. Keith did so hesitantly, spilling a few droplets of water on the cushions.

Lotor didn’t seem to mind as he washed his own hands and started taking food with a pair of tongs, placing choice cuts on Keith’s plate.

Food was food. Keith started eating with his fingers, trying to tear the meat into chunk before eating the way he’d seen Kolivan and the others do. That worked pretty well until he came to the raw meat. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but the slippery slices were a little too tough to break apart.

Lotor reached over and sliced one claw through the piece Keith was struggling with, offering Keith the neat strip on a finger.

Keith stared at it, then at Lotor who looked on expectantly.

Neither of them moved. Finally, Keith leaned in and chomped on Lotor’s finger, blunt teeth scraping against the pad of it as he skimmed the morsel off, lips catching slightly.

“Good?” Lotor’s eyes darkened as he smiled pleasantly, shredding the next bit.

Keith chewed, ignoring the way his face felt hot. His eyes lit up a bit as flavor burst on his tongue. “Yeah, that’s pretty good.”

The meat was tasty, with none of the iron tang of blood he’d expected. Kind of like crab, but spicy and more intense. He could see why it wasn’t cooked, now. It’d probably destroy the texture or something. Hunk would probably kill for some of this.

Lotor wordlessly offered the next strip.

“Is… this going to be a thing?” Keith asked.

“What do you mean?” Lotor asked languidly.

“You feeding me. Am I supposed to expect that, now?”  Lotor hadn’t even touched his own food, yet. He’d be suspicious but it did Lotor no favors to kill him off, especially not now.

“Of course,” Lotor replied, and Keith couldn’t even tell if he was bullshitting him or not.

“As your intended, it is the least I can do. Besides,” he paused. “It’s not without its benefits.” Lotor’s eyes traced Keith’s lips with a smirk.

“You don’t have to do that,” Keith said uneasily.

“Do what?” Lotor inquired mildly.

“Seduce me,” Keith blurted, for lack of a better term. ‘Flirting’ was too light and didn’t fit Lotor’s casual elegance or apparent pushiness. ‘Wooing’ just sounded stupid, even in his head.

“You said it yourself, I don’t go back on my word. I won’t… take any shit from you, but you don’t have to be so… attentive,” Keith said haltingly.  He took a breath to steady himself.

“I’m a sure thing. All this is just a waste of time. I don’t hate you, but we don’t need to like eachother.”

Lotor popped the strip of meat into his own mouth, sucking on the tip where Keith’s lips had touched lightly. His eyes were still dark and sharp, the blue of them luminous in the dim lighting.

Keith’s pulse skipped, but he clenched his jaw, defiant.

Lotor settled against the back of the couch, half-turned towards Keith. “It’s to the advantage of our alliance if we seem fond of eachother,” he began slowly, holding his gaze.

“As my intended, and then my bonded, it would be strange for me not to touch you. It’s no hardship for me. I find you personally attractive- disinclined though you may be to believe it. I can’t be the first to compliment you for it. You make the most... exquisite expressions.”

He tilted his head slightly, the shift making his hair pool on a shoulder. “If you must have another reason, I’d much rather a warm and willing mate in our marriage bed than a cold one.”

Marriage bed. Keith took a few moments to process that, his mouth going dry. He hadn’t even thought of…  “Ah,” he choked out. “Are we going to…?”

Lotor raised an eyebrow sardonically. “I certainly hope so. There can only ever be one Emperor Consort, you realize. Galra tend to take loyalty to extremes.”

“Right,” Keith agreed numbly. That was probably a political disaster. Not even Zarkon had ever taken another Empress.

“Did you plan to live the rest of your life celibate?” Lotor murmured teasingly, one knee touching Keith’s. “Or, perhaps, are you untouched?”

Keith’s temper flared a bit at that. “No,” he bit out, deciding not to specify which it answered. It was obvious that Lotor was far more experienced than he was. And the thought of being in his bed both made his head hurt and, upsettingly, his pulse race. He’d never been the focus of anyone’s attention before, not like this, much less someone as… stunning as Lotor was. Worse, Lotor knew it.

“Setting aside my personal interests, I’ve lived nearly ten thousand years, Keith, and seen what happens to those who take without giving; who are taken from,” Lotor added, eyes lingering a touch more gently on Keith’s face.

“I still believe a better world is possible, if we work together in truth than name. I would rather that be the legacy I use to spit on my father’s. For every planet he had me watch burn,” he whispered solemnly, gaze far.

Keith quieted, then shook his head, toying restlessly with a half-eaten breadstick. “Just being... attracted to eachother won’t make any of it true.”

“No,” Lotor considered. “But it’s certainly a place to start.”

=

The rest of the meal was strange, but not unpleasant. It was even sort of… nice eating with someone who wanted to sincerely talk to him instead of shoveling his food into his mouth as fast as he could so he could leave. His dad had often been out at all hours. The casual intimacy of sharing a meal was something he’d often missed. More often, lately, as the Blades usually ate standing and in between briefings.

When they were done, instead of offering his arm, Lotor placed a hand on Keith’s back, warm and broad, even through the tough fabric of his paladin undersuit. Keith’s back tensed and Lotor looked calmly back down into his instinctive glare.

After a moment, Keith forced himself to calm down.

Lotor was right. He was… he was going to be his Emperor consort. His… mate. For better or worse, he would need to get used to having someone-having _Lotor_ touch him. Someday, he might do more. The reality of what he’d agreed to was starting to sink in, but instead of the usual guilt and instinctive urge to burn his bridges and run, he felt… calm.

What could Lotor do to him that he hadn't already survived? He had never expected to live long. And if that were the case...then what was there to be afraid of? He couldn't let Voltron down if he wasn't part of Voltron, anymore.

Nobody breathed a word about the hand on his back, though a couple of the more elderly galra had raised their eyebrows- more at Keith than the hand on him. Lotor had simply pulled Keith closer, an arm around his waist.

“Pay them no mind. They do dislike to remember that I, a half breed, lived through their granddam’s births.”

“And you'll be marrying another half breed.” Keith wasn’t even purple.

“Fortunately the coalition is far more imperative than fussy old Dayaks.”

Keith frowned. There had to be more to it than that. “I heard Sendak’s speech. Something about the ‘fires of purification’, right?”

Lotor nodded, clearly reluctant to discuss it further. “I have found that all races will draw lines where they may be drawn.” He paused. “The princess is not immune to this. I’m sure you know.”  

Keith was, but… “Why’re they making such a big deal about how Galra you are, now?” After all, Zarkon having produced a halfblood son had to have been common knowledge for ten thousand years.

Lotor turned them into a quiet corridor, one with no guards and a single, thick door at the end. He sighed, gently. “Blood will out, so it must, the dissidents believe this most. I myself am not as Altean as I wish I were, nor as Galra as my father did.”

“...What do you mean by that?”

Lotor paused as he punched in a code. “Only that if I were less my father’s son, perhaps I would have triumphed in Oriande, as the princess had.”

“Is it that important? To pass Oriande?” Keith asked, a step short of demand.

Lotor looked at him, looking almost tired. “More than you know, for the future of our Empire.”

Keith kept himself from flinching at that ‘our’.  It wasn’t wrong. This Empire, this people- they’d be his, now, too. The same way leading Voltron had meant each of the paladins had needed to become a little bit his, in a strange way.

“I dream of peace, Keith. A world where we no longer need to drain entire worlds and civilizations of quintessence. No squabbling over resources, razing Balmeras. No war. For that, I need much. And the Empire needs Oriande’s secret to change.”  

“But it’s not the Altean Empire. It’s the Galra Empire,” Keith said quietly. “Just because the Altean way didn’t work out doesn’t mean there aren’t others.”

“And what is the Galra way? Looting and pillaging? Raping planets and making slaves of those that remain useful?” Lotor asked bitterly. “Destruction is the Galra way. Of others and themselves.”

Half a year ago, Keith would have agreed. Half a year ago, he’d been ready to kill Lotor’s father himself.

But that was half a year ago, before Keith had awakened his Blade.

“That’s not all that it is,” today’s Keith said. “I may not have been raised out here, but I’ve met good Galra. Honorable ones.”

“And did they too, break and die?” Lotor asked pointedly, his smile wan.   

“Some of them,” Keith admitted tightly. Ulaz. Thace. Antok. Regris. Varis. Una. The list went on.

“But that’s not all we are. I understand that, now. It’s not know-- not ‘victory or death’ because victory is the only option. It’s ‘victory or death’ because we know what’s at stake. And sometimes, sometimes you accept death,” he said softly.

“It’s never been just about doing whatever we can. It’s about knowing what’s important enough to sacrifice everything for.” Keith took a breath.

“That’s what I think. Being Galra is just my starting point. ” And Kolivan could give him hell for it all he wanted, but he still hadn’t kicked him out. Not really. Maybe in a way, he recognized Keith’s way of being Galra, too.  

Lotor stopped walking, forcing Keith to pull himself up before he bumped into him.

For long moments, he simply stared at Keith, as though he’d seen something strange and yet fascinating.

Keith bore it, glaring back. He didn’t do speeches. He hated them. But he wouldn’t say anything he didn’t mean. Not for this.

Finally, Lotor reached out, slender fingers brushing Keith’s hair back around one small ear. Keith shivered involuntarily at the scrape of a claw around the rim.

“Would that you and I had met sooner,” Lotor sighed. “Truly, you seem to have more aptitude for statesmanship than I realized.”

“I’m not giving any speeches to people,” Keith warned warily. “That’s not on the table.”

“No, I suppose I’d simply have to point your considerable charisma in their general direction,” Lotor mused.

Keith scowled at him. He had about as much charisma as a weblum’s behind.

Lotor laughed, suddenly, a brief little chuckle, then a louder one.

“What? What’s so funny?” Keith demanded reflexively. He’d been laughed at enough times to know when someone was.

“I was simply thinking it’s fortunate that the wedding is so soon, after all,” Lotor said, his grin sharpening.

Keith’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he folded his arms. “Why?”

Lotor brought his hand back around Keith’s waist and ushered them into the next room. “I simply can’t wait to see how I can take you apart.”

As if that wasn’t ominous at all…  

“Here we are, your rooms,” Lotor smiled, placing his free hand on a switch panel, opening a pair of double doors.

Keith stepped quickly inside, breaking free from Lotor’s hold. The room wasn’t particularly large but instead of the bland gray steel walls that dominated the rest of the ship, these walls were glass, showing a view of a vast starfield. The galaxy filled the room, spilling starlight onto them both.

“...Projection?” Keith wondered aloud, eying a lazily spinning planet in the distance. He hadn’t noticed one coming in.

“Yes,” Lotor admitted. “But I thought you might like it better. I know it must be hard for you to feel… contained. The feed is from a system not too far from here, GK-45.”

Keith looked out at a streaking comet in the distance. He’d never cared about what his room looked like at the Castle- it was just a place to rest, after all, and he was a soldier. But this was… a living space.

A large round sofa was plopped down in the middle of it all, big enough to sleep in, if the blankets and cushions thrown around it was anything to go by. Lotor touched a section of wall that slid back to reveal a wardrobe and bath. Another led to a simple bedroom done in neutral grays.  

“My rooms are at the end of this hall,” he said. “Once we are married, these may be converted into your personal study,” he said carefully. “For the next week, you may do as you like with it, of course.”

Keith nodded, trying not to think too hard about that. Waking up next to Lotor everyday in just a week. A stranger, almost. When would that stop being weird?

“You are, however, welcome in my chambers, if there’s anything you should need.”

“What would I ‘need’?” Keith asked before he thought it through. He instantly regretted it.

Lotor simply smiled, reading the realization on Keith’s face. “Anything at all, Keith,” he promised sweetly, voice low. The way he called Keith’s name felt intimate, shaped by that voice.

Keith felt his cheeks heat up despite himself. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

Lotor held his eyes a moment and straightened.  “Going over the ceremony. Galran ceremonies tend towards the brief, but fortunately defeating you in honorable battle to prove my worth has fallen out of practice.”

“What, scared you’ll lose?” Keith snorted.

Lotor eyed him, considering. “I _am_ used to fighting somewhat larger opponents. Nonetheless,  I’d rather spare both our dignities.”

“Works for me,” Keith agreed, stretching his arms out. All this talk of fighting reminded him he hadn’t trained much today. He’d have to make up for it tomorrow. “You know, back on earth, people just walk down an aisle and say their vows. It’s not really that complicated.”

“I’d let _Kalun_ Jeneva know,” Lotor said drily. “She seems to take exception to which ceremonies are fitting for an imperial wedding.”

Keith didn’t like the sound of that. At least it’d be quick, though.

Lotor’s communicator, tucked in his pocket, beeped suddenly, alerting them both. Lotor glanced at it, then looked apologetic. “Excuse me, it seems that there is still much to do for the Empire. I’ll take my leave, here.”

“Sure,” Keith said, after a moment. He’d almost forgotten how busy Lotor had to be. He definitely wouldn’t have the time to show Keith around like this regularly.

He watched Lotor leave and took three steps to fall face first into the sofa. He breathed in deep, smelling something faintly minty on the cushions, before rolling onto his back to look at the projected star system on the ceiling.

So this was going to be the rest of his life, far away from earth or anything he’d started to call home. But he was used to picking things up and moving on. What did it matter if it was a new school, house, or an alien empire?

In a way, Lotor’s arrangement had a permanence to it that none of the others had ever promised, not the Garrison or Voltron.

It was his idea, and he wasn’t going back on it anytime soon, but a vague anxiety still coiled in his belly. Keith pushed it down, letting the calm of unending space seep through his skin, soaking into his bones.

He opened his eyes to starlight, doing his best to ignore the tightness in his chest. He’d made the decision that was needed, and that was all that truly mattered. The consequences he’d just have to deal with as they came.

He just hoped Lotor had more in mind for him than keeping him around for-- for _mating_ , or diplomatic dinners. He seemed to think Keith had talents, but he hadn’t said how he planned to use them. Otherwise, he’d have to figure out ways to sneak missions with the Blades, once Kolivan cooled off.

Still… today hadn’t been too bad. Definitely better than he’d thought it would be. There had been no love lost between him and Lotor, and there had definitely been a time he’d have been happy to destroy him, ship and all. Keith wasn’t a _friendly_ person in general, so he hadn’t been expecting much of a welcome.

He touched his lips, thinking about the dinner he could still faintly taste, with the salt of Lotor’s fingertips, and drifted off to sleep.

=

The next three days were busy- Lotor barely had time to eat with him in the mornings and walk him to a trusted attendant for instruction and back.

Instruction for a _dance_ , as it turned out. The dance itself wasn’t hard- it was almost like a kata; something he might use to warm up or for a sporting event.

Keith’s body had always had an instinctive knack for acrobatics. Movement flowed through him naturally. His sense of balance and kinetic sense weren’t bad by any means. What he hadn’t expected was having to hold a _candle_ while he did it. And not letting it go out.

Keith cursed under his breath as the tiny flame scattered in an untimely burst of wind from the simulator. He collapsed into a crouch in disgust, staring at the blackened, empty wick.  

“If you think this is difficult, how will you weather the winds of Xelphatol?” _Kadun_ Kor barked.

“He’s not doing badly, for an alien,” one of the other instructors offered.

“It’s because he’s alien that he must be perfect,” Kor snapped. He had a dark purple crest atop his head, and it flared slightly with his annoyance.

“I _am_ part Galra,” Keith reminded. “And this can’t be how every Galran couple gets hitched out here.” Then again, maybe they all just eloped. Of course, the rules for common Galra getting married probably differed from royalty.  And the last royal wedding had been well over ten millennia ago.

“You are a small, strangely-colored, slovenly alien bride,” Kor retorted. “What part of you is Galra?”

“My blood,” Keith frowned. Team Voltron hadn’t asked. Not even the Blades had really doubted it after he’d awakened his dagger. But among the Galra, it seemed like that wasn’t enough.  

“Sullied,” Kor sniffed. “If the Emperor had chosen a full blooded bride, then that brutish wretch wouldn’t be nipping about the Empire,” he muttered. “As though we needed more unrest so soon after ascension.”

Keith frowned. Was it really that bad? Sure, Sendak had managed to snag some of the far flung fleets, but he hadn’t realized the problem might be closer to home. “Do people really believe what Sendak says? About ‘purification’?”

Kor grimaced. “The Emperor is… unorthodox,” he said, more quietly. “And people dislike change. The late Emperor Zarkon was all we or our great great grandparents have ever known.”

It must sort of skew your perspective, having immortal rulers, Keith supposed. Humans didn’t really have that problem. Keith, especially. Change had always been part of his life.

“But you all swore fealty to Lotor,” Keith said. “That’s why you’re here. So there can’t be that many of them. At least, nobody at Central Command believes that, right?”

Kor looked uneasy. So did the other instructors, now that he looked at them.

Were they scared? Lotor needed the tie to stabilize the uncertainty of his Empire’s unity. He hadn’t mentioned that included his throne.

Before he could ask further, the doors to the training room opened, revealing Lotor with a small entourage of officials. He looked like he’d gotten out of his meeting early, doling out last minute instructions as they walked. Almost half of them, Keith noted idly, were clearly part-bloods, colorful markings or strange appendages sticking out of their crisp navy uniforms. One by one, the Galra left, their orders defined, and Lotor walked to Keith.

“My apologies for the interruption. We’ve just received word that some of the Coalition dignitaries have arrived. I thought it best if we greet them together.” He offered Keith his arm.

Keith looked at it, then down at himself. He wasn’t an expert, but even Allura had always told them to clean up whenever guests arrived. “Like this?” He was dressed lightly in a tank top and a pair of leggings he’d dug out of the wardrobe. The top was loose, constantly gaping at the front or nearly falling off a shoulder, but he supposed the Galra didn’t exactly make sizes for him. He’d made do by tying the excess around the bottom hem up.

Lotor followed his gaze, eyes darkening with something almost hungry, then shook his head. “The Ovtu are blind. They view the world through other senses. Your scent won’t be unappealing.”

Lotor unclasped the high, narrow collar on his tunic, baring a few inches of lavender skin, then leaned down to firmly rub their cheeks and jaw together, nuzzling a little into Keith’s neck. He thought he could feel a soft press of lips, and jerked back, flustered. “What are you _doing_?”

“Mingling our scents. That’s how they’ll know we are engaged. Come, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Keith’s glowered suspiciously, but he had to take Lotor’s  explanation at face value.

As it turned out, Ovtu were a mole-like people, if moles were about four feet tall and yellow. Their noses were large and they had no eyes, which lent some credence to Lotor’s explanation.

During the greetings, Lotor’s hand never left Keith’s body, drifting over a hip or pressing against the small of his back. It was disturbing, how casually- _shamelessly_ \- he played up the engagement excuse for… whatever this was.

The Ovtu might not see him, but they were surrounded by other Galra, guards and governing officials, both. Keith bore it as well as he could, trying not to jump when Lotor’s thumb rubbed absent circles onto the dip of his waist, where the leggings didn’t quite meet the tank top. Keith had never wished more for the masked anonymity of the Blades’ suits.

But he didn’t hate the touch, either. And that was puzzling in itself.

Once the courtesies were done and the ambassador and her wife escorted to their rooms, Keith tried to give Lotor the most discreet elbow in the gut he could.

Lotor grunted softly. “If there’s something you wish to say…”

“It’s just payback,” Keith said.

“As awe-inspiring as your sense of equitability is, I have to ask: for what?”

“Making a display,” Keith decided. It was close enough. “I’m not planning on being arm candy forever.”

Lotor blinked as that seemed to translate. “A what? ...No, of course not.”

That was good. Keith would make a terrible trophy husband.

Lotor dismissed the rest of the gathered court and turned to lead Keith back to the private wing. Some of the guards tried to go with them, but paused at a signal from Lotor. There were, Keith realized, an awful lot of guards for two cuddly diplomats. The private wing was coded to only his and Lotor’s genetic imprints, however. It was unlikely that anyone would be able to attack them inside.

“I realize we haven’t spoken about it at length, but what do you see yourself as, Keith?”

Keith frowned. This wasn’t how he thought this conversation would go. He had been a pilot. A paladin. Most recently, a Blade. And in many ways he was still all three, bits of them carried inside him like the juvenile delinquent who stole cars. But who was he, now?

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, awkwardly. “A soldier, I guess.” A means to an end, if he had to be blunt about it. To save the universe or to save the alliance.

“You’d make a terrible one. You hardly seem like you follow orders,” Lotor smirked.

“But you _will_ be my Consort. That means many things, as leaders often need to be many things to their followers, kings and emperors even more so. My mother worked with my father, once. She was an alchemist, a researcher. My father gave her a laboratory. And what she studied there was to help people. It gave us the foundations of our understanding of quintessence as we have it now.”

Keith blanched at the idea of being cooped up, surrounded by books and experiments. “That’s definitely not me.”

Lotor agreed. “You are a gifted pilot and fighter. You could be my military advisor, a general to lead the people. Perhaps you’d prefer to be a pioneer, exploring the far reaches of the Universe for the Empire’s research or intelligence division.”

He took Keith’s hand in his, folding over them gently. “Perhaps you can spend your days training and learning new ways to bruise me. Whatever you choose, you will have a place by me. Your views will mean much to the new Empire that will be born.”

A place. Even if he did nothing. The thought made him reel a little.  

“You already have hundreds of generals,” Keith pointed out.

“Few of which I trust,” Lotor added. “Particularly, now,” he trailed off.

“No reason to trust me, either.”

“I can trust your moral compass. You wouldn’t betray me for politics, fear, or your own gain, Keith. You’d save me, if only for the Universe.”

Keith looked up at him calmly. “As long as you’re the best thing for it.”

“I intend to be,” Lotor smiled.

=

A single movement. That was all the time it took for Lotor’s very capable wedding planners to bring everything together.

Keith stood at the far left of a smooth platform suspended above an audience of dignitaries and the paladins. The wind on this planet was brisk and lava flowed beneath the wide transparent beam. Trust the Galra to be so dramatic.

And here they were about to be his people. Somehow, it seemed even more significant than being inducted into the Blades. Larger than himself.

He’d worn his paladin suit, but he couldn’t escape the... modifications. A long white veil whipped around his head and shoulders, pinned to him with an obsidian coronet and weighted at the ends with shards like daggers. He’d been divested of most of his armor, leaving him in only his cuirass and undersuit, bare-handed and barefoot, as was traditional.

In his hand, he carried a wrought steel branch, lit with blue flames and carved with his name.

On the other end of the platform, Lotor stood in much the same. Instead of a veil he had a heavy cape in dark purple. In his hand was a similar branch, his own name etched upon it.

At the center of the platform was a dais, a brazier settled deeply into it unlit. There, they would meet.

Keith breathed in as the gong sounded and he walked out and bent his knee, beginning the pattern dance. They started slow, one sweep of arm flowing seamlessly into a twist. Their veil and cape flowed out behind them; their silhouettes nothing but shadow against the planet’s three moons as they made their way across. Then, faster, dips and turns, and a sweeping kick that would tempt the unwary to slip.

That was when the sniper shot them

Twin bolt of bright green light burned against the darkness, streaking towards them, one each.

The crowd below gasped, and as though that were the signal, a sudden hail of laser fire started to rain down the platform.  Lotor threw himself into a dive, closing the distance between him and Keith and flinging the heavy cape up to shield them.

“At arms,” Lotor roared. “We’re under attack!”

Guards and sentries started to charge into the source of the beams, quickly identifying several planted snipers.

“We have to get down,” Keith said quickly, trying to crouch up. Lotor pulled him back into the mantle. The cape they’d used for practice was some kind of plush velvet. This one seemed to be lined with a dark leather that deflected the rays perfectly, suggesting Lotor had it specially made.

“How long have you known about this?” Keith demanded.

“In specific, five minutes ago,” Lotor retorted.

Which meant he’d had an idea before. Suddenly things clicked in place.

“You-”

The platform quaked nearly throwing them both off the surface. Sendak crouched at one end of the platform.

“Lotor! I’ve come for my throne, kinslayer.”

Lotor stood, leaving the mantle with Keith. He drew an energy sword from his back, the blade bursting into life from the obsidian grip. “Then you should have fought for it on Kral Zera, instead of running away in shame.”

His voice carried well, even with the wind, his slender figure elegant with his long silver hair streaming behind him like a pennant.  

Sendak was a boulder to his birch, his prosthetic arm sweeping forward in fierce violence.

Lotor caught the blow on his blade, grunting with the effort of it. He had no hope of winning an endurance contest with Sendak and he knew it. He disengaged, sliding his blade in the split second opening.

But the angle was wrong and the tip glanced across Sendak’s chestplate, harmless.

Sneering, Sendak punched Lotor straight across the platform. Keith didn’t stay to watch. The snipers had stopped. He lobbed the cape at Sendak before he could move another step, blinding him. Then he pushed off, using the force of his own inertia to ram into his solar plexus, shoulder first.

Sendak reeled, staggering back. Then, his arm swept up behind Keith, knocking into the back of his head hard enough for him to see stars. Keith hissed, falling to a crouch in pain. How could he have forgotten the stupid thing wasn’t attached?

With a slash of his sword, Lotor rejoined the fight, managing to cut Sendak’s remaining flesh arm. Keith followed up with a low leg sweep, forcing Sendak back as he ripped the reinforced cape to  shreds.

Sendak’s metal fist slammed intothe side of Keith’s head, making him see stars and stagger.

Roar triumphant, Sendak grabbed for Keith’s neck— only to be intercepted by Lotors blade snaking between them.

Lotor stepped in front of Keith, still hunched over on the floor.

Sendak mocked him, noticing. “I didn’t think you’d do it- marry another halfbreed, as if your existence wasn’t indignity enough. Your father should have had you killed the moment that Altean bitch whelped you. But no matter, when I am done, the world will forget your name. You will be a brief, black stain in the long, illustrious history of the Galra Empire.”

“You always thought yourself my father’s favorite. But he had none. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, that monster was an empty husk draining the Universe dry like a leech, him and his Witch!”  Lotor’s grip tightened on his sword.

Sendak’s lips curled in a sneer, exposing sharp teeth. “Everything you are you owe to your father and nothing more.”

“And everything you are now, the Witch brewed,” Lotor countered, but Keith could see the fine tremor in his grip.

Sendak surged, like a crashing wave, he bore down on Lotor with a flurry of blows. Lotor parried as much as he could, his arm shaking with the effort. Sendak pushed him back, then turned and aimed his arm cannon at Keith.

Lotor lunged to block the blow, getting caught by Sendak’s massive claw, instead, and tumbling back, scraping across the platform and over the edge. At the last second, he drove his sword into the obsidian, keeping himself from falling into the lava below-- just. His legs dangled over the precipice, body swinging on the fulcrum of his arm.

Sendak advanced, his arm pulsing with energy as he continued to charge the shot, Lotor in his sights, now.

Keith pushed himself forward, tackling Sendak from the side. The shaky momentum wasn’t enough to topple him, but the shot went wide, blasting harmlessly into the distance.

Sendak sneered. “To think you managed to get a dog of Voltron to heel. Tell me, Lotor, does he know what you are? What you do to your most loyal?”

“All I’ve done, I’ve done for _peace_. For the universe!” Lotor hissed.

“And you, paladin,” Sendak said, the title a mockery on his lips as he swung. “Here to join with your enemy without knowing what will lie in your bed?”

Keith wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. “Maybe not. But I know what _you_ are and what you’ve _done._ ”  

“Keith!” Someone called from the other end of the platform and threw his knife towards him. Keith caught it, quickly flipping the blade over his hand as it transformed, lengthening.

He rushed forward, blade out and swinging. Sendak met it easily, grabbing the blade in his metal claw. Keith swung from it, using the grip to pivot both of his legs into Sendak’s less armored side, bowling him over.

Grunting, Sendak released the blade and rolled. He swept a glance up at the sky. The Lions had arrived, fighting with the ship Sendak had come from. Guards were starting to swarm from the platform, guns out.

He’d been here too long and Keith could see the decision being made in his glowing eyes. Abandoning Keith, Sendak turned back to Lotor and shot.

“No!” Keith yelled, too late, he dove for the edge of the platform as it crumbled. Lotor had barely been able to pull himself up when Sendak shot. His panic-stricken eyes met his for a single second before their hands met and Keith dug his heels in, scraping them. One arm flashed out to dig his blade into the platform before he went over, too.

Lotor was too big and the platform too smooth. Keith went half over before they stopped, the heat of the lava below like the blast of a furnace.

Sendak had gone, his ship starting to escape, Voltron in pursuit.

“Your Excellencies!” Galra swarmed the platform as soon as the coast was clear. One of Lotor’s halfblood generals quickly stabilized Keith, helping him pull himself up.

As soon as he had the purchase, Keith stretched his other arm out. “Your hand!” he called, and pulled Lotor up with both of his with a heave.

“Your Excellency, what are your orders?” The general asked.

Lotor composed himself quickly, to his credit. “Lock down the planet, make sure none of his people escape. There will be a reckoning.” He looked up. Sendak’s ship was having trouble leaving. “Send battalions N6 and T2 out to aid Voltron, it’s time we rid ourselves of the spectre of the past.”

The general saluted. “Vrepit sa.” She hurried away, barking orders back to the others.  

Keith hadn’t heard of any battalions being stationed near here. The security had been tight but overt displays of military might tended to make ambassadors nervous. Where had they been hiding?

Keith’s hand shot out as Lotor tried to stand, anchoring his wrist. “This has to change. You have to.”

Lotor kept his face neutral. “What do you mean?”

“Keeping secrets. Thinking you know better than me. Maybe you do, but if I’m really going to be your-- your _Consort_ , your second commander-in-chief, you need to tell me so I can tell you if you do.”

Lotor looked sober. “You won’t like what you hear.”

“Try me. The worst thing that will happen is I kick your ass for being one.”

“And then?”

“And then I’d fix it.”

Lotor hesitated. “It’s not uncommon for my vision to not be shared. There are lines I may cross others do not.”

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t.”

“And if you can’t ‘fix it’? You are many things, Keith, but not omnipotent.”

“There’ll be a way. You lived ten thousand years. You tell me.”

“It won’t be easy,” Lotor said quietly.

“Bite me, we all have trust issues.” Keith snapped. He breathed in deep, willing himself not to lose focus.  

“I don’t give up on people.” Not when everyone had given up on him. If there was a chance to save someone, you took it.

“You said I have a place, with you. That means you’ll have a place, with me, too.” Because sometimes all you needed was someone who could believe in you.  Keith had been the lost cause. He knew what that was like. And he knew, now, that he and Lotor had more in common than either of them might’ve been comfortable with before.

Lotor was quiet, hair disheveled as he pushed it back with one hand. “If it’s you, I could believe you mean it.”

“Then you can start right now.”

He released Lotor’s arm and offered his own hand to Lotor back. “We’re in this together.”

Lotor took it.

“Alright,” Keith said, trying to keep his voice calm. “We still have a wedding to do.”

“ _Now_?” Lotor blinked.

“I don’t go back on my word,” Keith told him firmly.

The dais was slightly tattered, but stable enough for them to continue. Most of the guests ushered to safe zones when the fighting broke out returned, looking only slightly frazzled for the turn of events. Keith couldn’t care less.

On top of the platform, he and Lotor joined their abandoned candles together and lit the brazier, sending a hot rush of crackling deep blue flame up into the sky.

An antiquated ivory ceremonial knife, the grip exquisitely carved, lay beneath the small well in the stone, untouched despite the battle. Lotor took it first, sliding the blade through the blue flame. It caught, then sank quickly into the knife, making the jewels on the hilt glow.

“Blood with blood,” Lotor spoke, pressing the heated blade to his skin and slicing a cut along his palm. Keith copied him, and they joined their hands, letting the blood drip together into the stone.

“Together, life.” Keith dipped two fingers into the pooled blood, reaching up to smear it on Lotor’s lips.

Lotor’s eyes were watchful, full of unspoken words. Keith tilted his face up and closed his eyes in response.

Almost hesitantly, Lotor dipped a finger into the same well and gently painted a line across Keth’s bottom lip. “Together, joined.”  

Then, he leaned down and sealed their lips together in a gentle, chaste kiss. It tasted like blood, but Lotor’s hand dropped to his waist to press in closer and Keith’s belly flipped as electricity thrummed through them both, rioting around them. Old magic. Older than even Alteans, Lotor had confided.  

The pillar of blue flame abruptly split, reaching out to consume the spilt blood in the well in eager licks.

“So two fates become one, bonded and destined. So it is witnessed,” the herald called below.  Slowly, at first, still confused, then louder, the guests cheered.

Above them, the Lions were streaks of color in the sky.

=

Sendak’s capture was perhaps the best wedding gift Lotor could’ve asked Voltron for.

Damage control was a nightmare, but blessedly one that Keith didn’t have much to do with. Lotor didn’t even require him to smile, allowing Keith to stand in mildly surly silence next to him as he dealt with waves of diplomatic guests and well-wishers as well as military commanders.

Once everything was as sorted as it could be within the span of a quintant, Lotor finally noticed Keith nodding off gently against his shoulder and carried him back to their rooms.

Cradled gently in his arms, Keith didn’t stir until he was being laid down on the bed, blinking up at Lotor in confusion as his head and shoulders sank into soft pillows.

Backlit, Lotor’s salt-white hair was a halo. “Where…?”

“Our rooms,” Lotor replied, easing Keith’s cuirass off with his broad palms.

His fingers slipped underneath, brushing against Keith’s chest. Keith sat up so quickly he nearly knocked their heads together. “Wait--”

Lotor jerked back to keep from an untimely collision and raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “That nap appears to have done wonders. You’re far more _energetic_ than I thought you’d be tonight.”

Keith flushed. “I-I, just… tonight?” Keith’s voice cracked like it hadn’t since he was fifteen and it had gone low and throaty in one summer. His skin burned with the awareness of the sheets and the dim lighting, the weight of the veil he’d tossed the moment the ceremonies were over a phantom on his head.

“It _was_ you who knocked Zarkon’s former champion down earlier today, was it not?” Lotor mused, enjoying Keith’s discomfiture. “Of course, I imagine that does work up an appetite for simpler things…”

Keith’s fingers dug into the sheets. “Shut up.”

Lotor sat back on his haunches, spreading his hands innocently. “I simply want you to be more comfortable, Keith. I think we’ve flouted quite enough tradition today to wait on one more,” he added, once Keith relaxed.

Keith threw the pillow at him. “It’s not-- I just…” he trailed off, words failing him, as they always did.

Lotor caught his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the center of his palm. “Be at ease,” he said, more seriously. “There will be much to talk about- enough for you to get used to the idea, I hope.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Keith breathed. “It’s not that I don’t--” he gestured vaguely at Lotor. “I just… not now.”

“Certainly, there will be much to prepare for, regardless.”

“Prepare for?” Keith wondered.

Lotor smiled and laid a hand on Keith’s hip, dwarfing it. “I intend to keep my word, after all. All of it.”

  
  


-end-

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't quite fit in the smut bc Keith was being skittish and Lotor is... Big, ok. He needs to work himself up to it. Fortunately, Lotor has plans, as always. Their first time will probably be a bit intense.
> 
> Bonus: Kolivan finds out after the fact and tries to “save” Keith bc omg Krolia will KILL him. 
> 
> Sequel where Krolia sees the live broadcast of the wedding and hops on the first shuttle back to command, yelling at Kolivan for not saying her SON was getting married.
> 
> Kolivan grunts Keith hadn't told him either. Her son eloped with the Emperor.


End file.
